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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25216792">copper on his tongue</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/hibiscxs/pseuds/hibiscxs'>hibiscxs</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Release [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Legacies (TV 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Age Difference, Blood Drinking, Daddy Issues, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Older Man/Younger Woman, Smut, Teacher-Student Relationship, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, like pretty big yikes, problematic, seriously i do not condone this irl, shes 17 hes like 51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 12:01:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,352</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25216792</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/hibiscxs/pseuds/hibiscxs</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“So, you’re saying you have a little piece of my father in you?”</p><p>“It was more metaphorical than that, but yes, I guess.”</p><p>She leaned forward to grip his face and kissed him, and it took Ric a moment to understand what was happening.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hope Mikaelson/Alaric Saltzman</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Release [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1873672</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>73</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>copper on his tongue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This work was previously titled "Release", which is now the title of the series this work is a part of.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hope was changed when she came back from New Orleans. She had always been quiet, and had quickly grown to be lonely, but Ric now saw a rage in her that hadn’t been there before. He knew why, of course. He had been there when Lizzie and Josie had siphoned that mass of destructive magic from her and put it into her father.</p><p>Other things had changed too. The other students had seen her father and his siblings when they had come to visit Hope. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together, and so the secret— that Hope Marshall, the witch, was a lie and Hope Mikaelson, the tribrid, was the truth— was out.</p><p>One of the wolves had made a dumb comment— a cruel one, yes, but he was only a kid. He’d asked her about her father, asked if it was by his command that she killed a human and triggered her curse. She had turned right there in the middle of the field, and leapt for his throat. Emma had barely cast a shield spell in time for the boy to run screaming. She wouldn’t turn back until Ric had come himself to glare down at the small grey wolf, holding tightly onto the illusion of his authority over her.</p><p>Later, in his office, she was dressed in only the large coat Emma had covered her with, and Ric had to make himself believe that she wasn’t going to turn again and rip his throat out, or simply do it with a spell, before he turned to talk to her.</p><p>“Are you expelling me?” she asked. Ric had been ready to yell, but she sounded so scared that he melted on the spot.</p><p>“Of course not,” he said. </p><p>She scoffed cruelly. “Because I’m an orphan with nowhere to go?”</p><p>“You still have family, Hope.” He sighed. “You’ve been through a lot, and you’re a newly-turned wolf. It’s normal for you to be a little…”</p><p>“Crazy?”</p><p>“Angry,” he corrected firmly.</p><p>“Doctor Saltzman,” she said, voice trembling, and Ric realized she was crying. “I’m scared. I don’t know what to do,” she sobbed. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”</p><p>Ric looked across his desk at this 15-year-old girl with so much power in her that it had become a burden, and clenched his fist. “I’ll make sure you won’t.”</p><p>She looked up. “How?”</p><p>“I’ll teach you how to defend yourself without magic. The next time someone says something like that, you can break their nose instead of trying to rip their throats out.”</p><p>She had stayed silent and sullen, but she had shown up to their first training session with no complaints.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>At first, he felt twenty years younger, like when he had been training Elena to kill vampires. But Hope was not Elena, so that comparison quickly deteriorated. Elena had been human, but Hope was a tribrid. She was faster, had better reflexes, picked up on combat easily, and had a lot more anger in her tiny body than Elena ever had.</p><p>The training sessions seemed to help. No one dared say anything to her face after seeing her transform and attack at will, but they still whispered behind her back. She would come to him the next morning ready to put him on his back, something which became increasingly common. On days when she couldn’t wait for him, she took it out on the punching bags in the gym. He and Caroline had to increase the budget for replacing those.</p><p>After almost a year, when she started trusting her self-control and let herself forget what could have been, she spent her restless nights running through the woods as a wolf. She always checked with him to see if it was okay first, and he always allowed it. It wasn’t long before his special treatment towards her had gotten out to the other students— something he was sure they had Lizzie to thank for. Some other, uglier rumors were born from that— so ugly that even Lizzie couldn’t bear to hear them. But Ric could stand a few rumors if that meant Hope could have her releases. It was better than her killing a student.</p><p>Some time after Hope turned 17— a day that had gone unremarked except for his own greeting during their morning session, like her 16th— something had changed again. She showed up that morning bristling with anger and with unrestrained magic sparking in the air around her. She had insisted she was fine, but soon Ric was on his back, a large cut down his bicep just from her magic. Hope had gasped and stammered muffled apologies, tears in her eyes as she ran.</p><p>He had snuck back to his office, trying to avoid his students, and tore off the sleeve of the shirt because he couldn’t move his shoulder without feeling like he was going to rip it off. Ric had been examining it in the mirror— he could patch it up himself, the nurse wouldn’t have to know— when Hope came in, eyes still glistening with tears that came again when she saw her handiwork.</p><p>“Doctor Saltzman, I’m so sorry!” she choked out. She didn’t approach, and Ric knew that she thought he was angry.</p><p>“Hope, it was an accident,” he tried to soothe, despite the fact that he was speaking through his teeth. “It’s okay, I’m not mad.”</p><p>“I shouldn’t have ran like that, I— I should’ve stayed to help. I—” She paused, hesitation clear on her face before she pursed her lips and approached him with conviction. Before he even realized what she was doing, her eyes turned yellow and her fangs slid out of her gums and into the soft flesh of her palm.</p><p>“Hope—”<br/>
“Drink this,” she ordered, offering up her hand with a wince. Blood flowed out of the wounds she had made, settling into the cup of her hand and dripping down her wrist.</p><p>He should have refused, should have said he could patch himself up, or she could perform a healing spell, because the last thing he wanted to do was have the potential to become a vampire, especially one sired to Hope Mikaelson. But instead, he let her curl around him and press her bloodied hand to his open mouth. Her blood coated his tongue and slipped down his throat. He could feel the holes in her palm heal against his lips just a moment before the cut on his bicep stitched itself closed.</p><p>She pulled her hand away, still smeared with her blood. It was a waste, Ric thought. With a wave of her clean hand and a whispered incantation, the blood on her hand and on his shoulder disappeared, leaving smooth, unmarred skin. Hope anxiously inspected it. </p><p>Ric cleared his throat, still thick with her blood. “Thank you,” he said.</p><p>She looked down at her feet, the hand that was just at Ric’s mouth clenched into a fist. “It was the least I could do, considering…”</p><p>“Hope, it was an accident,” he repeated. “Do you want to tell me why you were so... tense?”</p><p>She sighed, settling in the chair. He looked down at her while she fiddled with her hands. “Roman,” she finally said, glancing up at him.</p><p>“Oh.” Roman had returned to the school two days ago. He was too old to be a student anymore, but Ric understood that what had happened two years ago was not his fault, and knew that Hope understood that too. From what he had heard, they had parted on good, if slightly strained, terms. Roman had spent the past two years doing recruitment work for the school, and Ric had been thinking about having him stay as an instructor for the vampires. “You said you were okay with seeing him.”</p><p>“I was. I mean, I am,” she whispered. “I— I went to apologize to him about…” She trailed off. “And he was just so forgiving. I <em> tortured </em>him, Doctor Saltzman. And he just forgave me. He—” She cut herself off, then averted her eyes. “We slept together.”</p><p>Ric had to mentally scream at himself to keep his mouth shut.</p><p>She took a moment of silence as well, as if collecting herself. “And after, I just felt awful. I— I don’t understand how after all that I did to him, he could still want me. How could he even stand to look at me?” she asked incredulously. Ric knew she wasn’t talking to him anymore. “I was a monster,” she whispered, then her eyes flickered up to Ric, and down to the torn sleeve of his shirt. “I’m still a monster…” She bit her lip and turned her head away again.</p><p>“Hey,” Ric said softly. Instinctively, he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to his chest. “You’re not a monster, Hope. No one here is. You’re young, powerful, and you feel your emotions vividly.” He loosened his grip so she could look at him. Frowning, he wiped a tear track from her cheek. “Don’t ask yourself why Roman would want you. You’re not a monster.”</p><p>“But I—” She looked up at him, blue eyes still hurting. “He’s just <em> so </em>—”</p><p>“He is lucky to have you,” Ric said. “You’re a beautiful young woman.”</p><p>She sniffled, and slowly nodded, still looking up at him as if unsure. Her hand came up to rest on his for a heartbeat, then she dislodged herself from his arms. “Thank you, Doctor Saltzman. I’ll, uh, I’ll head to class now.”</p><p>“Okay, sure,” he nodded, trying to assess whether she was really okay or not. She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand and stepped away to the door. Ric sighed in relief. He should get cleaned up for his first class too. </p><p>In the shower, he put a hand to his healed bicep, but when he closed his eyes, he remembered copper on his tongue and her soft flesh against his lips.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Ever the functioning alcoholic, Ric spent many of his restless nights in his office, reading and drinking. Maybe it was the alcohol, but when Hope turned up at his door, still in her uniform, the drink on his tongue tasted like copper for a split second.</p><p>“Long day?” Hope asked, gesturing to the bottle.</p><p>“I could say the same for you,” he replied. </p><p>She scoffed in agreement, glancing at the spot where her magic had tore through his skin just that morning.</p><p>Ric studied the bottle beside him, and thought of her tears from earlier. She was still standing a little ways from the desk he was leaning against, and Ric noticed her shifting eyes and bitten lower lip. He offered her a seat in front of him, and against any judgement he still retained, poured his 17-year-old student a glass of bourbon. She took it with only a curious lift of her brow. She sipped it like she did everything else, with old world grace she undoubtedly inherited from her father. With an ache, Ric realized he could remember what moving like that felt like.</p><p>“Your dad was in me once, you know,” he said. Hope stilled, lowering her glass from where it had been resting against her lip. “He possessed me. It was a whole...<em> thing </em> ,” he rambled, studying the girl in front of him. She sat in the chair like a displeased queen on her throne, grimacing while she downed her glass. “Sometimes,” he continued, only vaguely aware that maybe he should stop talking, “when I look at you, I remember what that was like.” That ache in his chest returned. “I can still... <em> feel </em> him, inside me.”</p><p>Hope stood from her seat and reached for the bottle beside him. Instead of pouring into her glass, she brought the opening of the bottle directly to her mouth, and murmured, “So, you’re saying you have a little piece of my father in you?” She tilted her head back, letting the amber liquid flow straight from the bottle into her mouth. When she was done, she exhaled heavily and set the bottle back down beside him.</p><p>They were standing too close, Ric realized belatedly. He cleared his throat, shifting. “It was more metaphorical than that, but yes, I guess.”</p><p>She leaned forward to grip his face and kissed him, and it took Ric a moment to understand what was happening. He grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her away.</p><p>“Hope,” he said, bewildered, “we ca—”</p><p>“Please,” she whispered. They were still so close he could feel the air her plea displaced. “Please, Ric—”</p><p>He began to protest, “You’re my—” <em> You’re my student </em>, he was going to say, but when she ghosted her lips over his jaw he realized he was having a hard time reconciling the woman whose body was pressed against his with the student who attended his History of Magic lectures. The protesting voice in his head dwindled, and against all reason he didn’t stop her when she pressed their mouths back together for the second time that night. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered the door slam shut in a gust of magic, but all he could feel was her soft lips and her warm body moving against his. He buried his hands in her copper hair, too afraid to touch anywhere else, but it became clear she didn’t have the same reservations. Her hands wandered from his neck to chest and trailed lower until she was palming him over his pants and he was moaning around her tongue.</p><p>“Fuck,” he hissed into her mouth. She hummed and grabbed him by the shirt, spinning so that she could prop herself up on the desk and slot him between her legs. He gripped her smooth, white thighs above those precious knee socks as her hands worked open his belt.</p><p>Her soft hands were firm on his cock, stroking him from base to tip. “Touch me,” she whispered, forehead pressed to his.</p><p>“Where?” he asked, voice gruff. His gaze wandered from where she touched him to where his fingers dug into her thighs. He dragged his thumb  over her bare skin, itching to delve into the shadows and heat that laid underneath her school-regulation skirt.</p><p>She tightened her knees around his waist and pulled, drawing him closer. His breath stuttered. Her blue eyes were wide and demanding when she tilted her face up so their lips brushed, breathing each other’s breath. His fingers brushed the edges of her skirt. “Anywhere,” she said, one hand leaving his cock to guide his hand up her thigh. He sucked in a gasp when his trembling fingertips came into contact with damp cotton. In her hand, his cock twitched. “Touch me,” she said again, more order than request.</p><p>Instead, he snatched his trembling hand from between her thighs and kissed her, hands delving under her cardigan to feel the smooth plane of her stomach and the lithe curve of her back. She growled into the kiss, then drew back and pulled her cardigan off. His cock ached at the loss of her touch, so he flew to undo the buttons of her shirt, stripping some off in the process. When he pushed the open shirt off her shoulders, she put a hand on his chest, and Alaric felt a chill as her magic washed over his torso and left it bare.</p><p>Ric was about to protest the magical destruction of his clothes, but stopped when she reached behind her to undo the clasp of her bra. Ric had only a moment to take in the sight of her copper hair flowing down the pale skin of her shoulders and chest. She regarded him coolly as he swallowed, his hands resting on either side of her hips.</p><p>“Doctor Saltzman,” she said, and Ric grimaced at that. “Ric,” she tried again, “I want you,” she whispered, replacing her hands on his cock, fingertips ghosting over the shaft, “to touch me.” She placed a light kiss behind his ear. “Don’t you want to?” she asked, pressing their chests together. Ric closed his eyes, trying to clear his head, but he could still feel her nipples brushing his chest, her soft hands stroking him, her lips at his ear, and branded onto the backs of his eyelids was that image of her perfect body with her waves running down her chest like a red river.</p><p>“Shit,” he said in defeat, “I do.” He cupped a full breast in one hand, and shoved her skirt aside, running a thumb across the waistband of her panties. He felt her shiver against him before he slipped past that boundary, meeting the heat and wetness of her core. He searched for her clit, dragging his thumb roughly across it until she was mewling into his neck, the rhythm of her hands on him skipping like an old record. </p><p>“Ric,” she whimpered.</p><p>“Shh, I know, baby,” he soothed, rolling a hard, dusty pink nipple between his fingers. He slipped his slicked-up fingers into her, reveling in how her walls pulsed around him as he curled and spread them inside her. Her hands left his leaking cock, instead winding around his neck to knot in his hair when he added more digits and fucked her faster, rubbing her swollen clit in tandem. She pressed their lips together in something less than a kiss, as if only to let him feel her mouth the words her voice gave up on. His wrist ached, but he watched her face when her walls finally fluttered around him. Her hips twitched and rolled into his palm, searching for that final bit of friction. She came silently, the only sounds the obscene squelch from between her legs and her heavy breath against his lips.</p><p>She leaned back on the desk as if to collect herself, and Ric looked down in between them. His retracted hand glistened with her arousal and his cock still stood hard and red between them.</p><p>“I want it,” she breathed. Ric looked up, slightly alarmed to see a look of animalistic hunger in Hope’s eyes as she raked over him, but the tightness in his abdomen reminded him that the same hunger was in him. “Fuck me,” she commanded again, and his only will was to give her what she wanted. </p><p>He hooked his fingers into her soaked panties and slid them down her slick-smeared thighs and her sock-covered calves, leaving them hanging off one ankle of those clunky heeled boots she had kept on. Blood pulsed through his cock as he looked at her, splayed out on his desk, dressed from the waist down, the skin of her cheeks and chest flushed. She stared back at him, nudging her thighs apart eagerly with desire.</p><p>She leaned forward to kiss him, gripping his hair. Her hand, coated in her own wetness, wrapped around his cock and pumped it a few times for good measure. She brought him down with her so she was reclined on the desk, propped up on her elbows. He loomed over her, caught between her thighs. She tilted her hips up toward him, but Ric gripped her by the waist and dragged her forward until her ass hung off the edge of the desk. She let out a small gasp when her slit met his cock. Urged on by her surprise, Rick rocked his hips, letting his tip rub against her opening. She squirmed, but his hands were firm on her hips, keeping them still.</p><p>“You are so fucking beautiful,” he said, allowing himself time to feast on her with his eyes. Her face flushed a deeper red. “Fucking perfect,” he said again, dragging his hands up her sides and over her breasts until he cupped her face. “Perfect,” he repeated, leaning down to kiss her again. “Perfect,” his lips mouthed against hers as she rocked her hips forward.</p><p>“Fuck,” Hope gasped. “Please, Ric, <em> ple— </em>”</p><p>Ric slid into her, cutting off her final plea. A breath that had been trapped in his throat tore out of him when he bottomed out, the entirety of his length wrapped in  her silky heat. </p><p>“<em>God</em>,” she sighed, stroking and gripping down his arms. “God, that feels so fucking— <em> Ric </em>—”</p><p>Hope had a quick tongue at the best of times, and Ric found she was no different now. Pleas and directives and praises and incoherent babble spilled from her lips as he fucked her, slowly at first then quickly gaining in intensity. Her pitch jumped every time he thrust into her, accompanying the sound of slapping flesh. When she got too loud, he muffled her with open kisses, feeling her moans vibrate in his mouth. She was wrapped around him, her covered legs chafing his ass, her sweat-slicked arms sliding along his back as she crushed their chests together, her hot walls squeezing around his cock. All Ric could feel and see and smell and think was <em> hopehopehopehope </em>.</p><p>She rolled her hips to meet his thrusts frantically, and Ric pulled back to rub her throbbing clit, feeling how close she was. She was crying out, one hand buried in her own hair and the other reaching out for him. She came with his name on her kissed-red lips, her body shuddering and arching and tightening around him so deliciously Ric was only a few thrusts away from his own release. When he pulled out, her walls pulsed as if trying to keep him there, but he spilled his seed onto her convulsing stomach with a wretched groan. She watched, a needy <em> oh </em> escaping her as it dripped down the side of her stomach onto his desk.</p><p>There was only the sound of their exhausted breathing for a moment. Ric rubbed absent-minded circles into the flesh of her hip. Hope sat up, and when Ric stepped back she smoothed her skirt over her closed thighs. Their breathing was still slightly ragged when their eyes met, the reality of what they had just done hitting them. His cum ran down her stomach into the waistband of her plaid skirt, and Ric swallowed, his mouth suddenly very dry despite the fact that he’d had her tongue in it not even a minute ago.</p><p>“Don’t,” Hope said simply, barely above a whisper. She plucked a tissue from his desk, wiping away the proof of their misdeeds from her skin. “Not yet.”</p><p>They fell asleep spooning on the couch, having not spoken another word. When Ric woke up with the sunlight in his eyes, it didn’t come to him right away. Then he saw the mess of papers they had swept off the desk, the various paperweights and the bottle of bourbon that had toppled over. He buried his face in his hands, cursing himself, but he still saw her body burning on the backs of his eyelids.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>They didn’t do any training for the next five days. He didn’t call for her, and she didn’t come by to ask. He saw her in passing in the halls, but he had asked Dorian to take over his lectures in the meantime. On the second day after the incident, Ric saw Hope and Roman talking in the commons, and watched Roman tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear like it was second nature. She smiled but averted her eyes, turning her body away from him. On day three, Ric called Roman to his office to assign him recruitment missions in Germany. On day four, Emma came in to tell him that Lizzie and Hope had gotten into a fight that started with the word ‘orphan’ and ended with the destruction of several windows. On the fifth day, Jed had come in to report that they would need to get another punching bag, and that a fourth of the pack were healing from broken ribs, courtesy of their resident tribrid. He had MG pass Hope a message that evening. On the morning of the sixth day after the incident, Ric met Hope at their usual training spot.</p><p>She said nothing, and he only spoke to give her directions and correct her technique. They fell into a familiar rhythm that ended, also familiarly, with him on his back and her above him. Only this time, he saw the sweat run down her neck and wondered what it tasted like, and when she grunted in effort to block his punches, he remembered the sound she had muffled into his neck when he fucked her a little too roughly. </p><p>She pulled him up to standing, and she spoke to him for the first time since she had wiped his cum off her stomach. “I’m sorry,” she said. Ric knew she wasn’t talking about throwing him to the ground just now. “It won’t happen again, I swear.”</p><p>Ric pressed his lips together and nodded. It wouldn’t. It couldn’t.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>One month later, he was chewing her out over a book of dark spells Dorian found in her possession. She snapped at him, called him controlling and delusional for thinking the witches could survive with only levitation charms and shield spells. Not ten minutes later he had her bent over the back of the couch and finally discovered what she tasted like, then fucked her unrelentingly until she sobbed her apologies around his fingers. He whispered forgiveness and then sorries in her ear, calling her <em> baby </em> as he ground into her.</p><p>“Princess,” she whimpered. “Call me princess.”</p><p>He hummed the endearment to her and stroked her hair while he slowly drove into her from behind, and she fell apart around him with a smile on her lips and tears on her cheeks.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The next day, he saw her reading the same book of spells that had gotten her in trouble in the first place. Instead of indignant anger, he felt a wave of arousal that went straight between his legs at the memory of her taste. She caught his eye over the top of the pages and gave him a look that was mostly a challenge with only a hint of guilt, and all he could do was turn away from her.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hope has daddy issues and Alaric has Klaus issues. Also, this may turn into a multichapter thing but no promises?</p><p>Edit (08.07.20) - Small edit in paragraph 3 because I forgot that werewolves need to kill humans, not just anyone, to trigger their curse. Other teeny edits to correct typos and the like.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>For those who may be looking for the second chapter that was previously posted, it has been reposted as a separate work that is next in sequence for this series.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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